


like a montage in a movie

by ShyAudacity



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Archie Andrews-centric, Episode: s03e05 Chapter Forty: The Great Escape, Fred Andrews Centric, Gen, Hurt Archie Andrews, Hurt/Comfort, I had another idea for his escape that i couldnt get out of my head so here this is, Post-Episode: s03e05 Chapter Forty: The Great Escape, Protective Fred Andrews, Protective Jughead Jones, Season/Series 03, Whump, Worried Fred, post rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 04:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyAudacity/pseuds/ShyAudacity
Summary: Fred putters around the house and the bad feeling in his chest only grows over the course of the day. He knows something is wrong, he just knows there is- but he can’t put his finger on it.Then out of nowhere, late in the afternoon, Reggie Mantle of all people appears at his back door, all but rushing in and then saying.“Oh. Hey, Mr. Andrews. Sorry to barge in like this- but we’ve got a bit of a situation.”ORHere's what would have happened had the rescue crew been able to get Archie back home to Fred in 3x05.





	like a montage in a movie

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait and post this tomorrow but then my brain said: "Nah fuck it." This is for messykings on tumblr for orchestrating Secret Santa this past year! She's certainly earned it; thanks, J! 
> 
> Unbeta'd and title from Move You by Kelly Clarkson.

_Something’s not right… something is wrong in the world, now if only I knew what it was._

Fred wakes up in the morning with an odd feeling in his chest. It’s not far off from the feeling that he’s had ever since his son went to jail, but this one is different somehow. Makes him feel like a storm is about to roll in… like something bad is coming and even he won’t be able to stop it.

On an anxious whim, he calls his construction crew and tells them all to take the day off. Lord only knows that Fred has skipped work more than once as of late because he was too worried about Archie. Being distracted around machinery gets someone landed in the emergency room real quick.

Fred putters around the house and the bad feeling in his chest only grows over the course of the day. He knows something is wrong, he just _knows_ there is- but he can’t put his finger on it.

Then out of nowhere, late in the afternoon, Reggie Mantle of all people appears at his back door, all but rushing in and then saying.

“Oh. Hey, Mr. Andrews. Sorry to barge in like this- but we’ve got a bit of a situation.”

Before Fred can ask what’s going on, Veronica is coming in through the back door, a ragged and bleeding Archie draped over her shoulders, looking like he could hit the floor at any given second if she dared to let go.

_My son,_ he thinks, _someone fucking hurt my son._

For a second, he’s too shocked to move, too stunned by the sight of his son to do anything. Then, at the exact second that the landline on the phone begins to ring, Archie looks up at his dad, finally pulling his face out of Veronica’s neck.

“Dad?” Archie asks, sounding afraid and weary. Fred looks down at where Veronica has her hand pressed firmly against Archie’s hip. He can just barely see the edge of gash poking out from her fingers where she’s trying to keep all of the blood inside Archie’s body.

No one moves or even makes a sound. The phone won’t stop ringing. Everyone is looking at him, waiting for Fred to give them a clue as to what to do now. Then, off in the distance, the sound of siren starts up, drawing closer and closer towards the house.

_We’re not safe- he’s not safe here._

“All of you, away from the door, right now,” Fred says, trying to be firm. “Reggie, in the upstairs bathroom under the sink- there’s a first aid kit, go get it and bring it back down. Veronica, get blankets, towels, anything you can find- cover the couch with it, alright? We need to get him cleaned up before this gets any worse.”

Both of the teens nod; Archie loses his footing when Veronica moves away from him, stumbles further into the kitchen on his bare feet. He doesn’t make it more than four steps before his knees start to give out from under him.  

Fred steps forward, finally getting his arms around his son, one around his waist, the other under his arm and leading up to his shoulder; he smells like muck and piss, but Fred can’t even be upset about it. He’s just glad that Archie is finally here.

Archie drops his head onto his dad’s shoulder, breathing out shakily. He twists his hand into Fred’s flannel shirt, grip tight; there’s a quiet, keening sound leaving his throat suddenly.

“I got you, Archie, I gotcha.” Fred says in a rush, cradling the back of his head, “I’m right here, kiddo.”

Archie whines again, and Fred does everything in his power to keep both of them upright as he moves into the living room, all but carrying Archie there the whole way.

Reggie finally comes back with the first aid kit as Veronica helps Fred ease Archie onto the couch; it’s covered with old sheets from years ago when Archie was going through his Toy Story phase. Archie groans once he’s finally off of his feet, but doesn’t let go of his Dad; he’s got a solid, near bone breaking grip on Fred’s hand.

“I don’t-.” Reggie fumbles with the box, “The hell am I supposed do with this?”

“Here, let me have it,” Veronica says, “My Abuela taught me to sew, I can patch him up.”

She peels back the edge of Archie’s shirt, and there’s a stab wound underneath all of the dirt- Archie was goddamn _stabbed_.

Feeling panicked himself, Fred just talks to Archie the entire time, tries his damn hardest to keep him lucid. He brushes Archie’s hair away from his forehead and they come away covered in gunk; something tells him that he doesn’t want to ask what this is or where it came from.

“Just a few more minutes, alright, Arch? It’s almost over.”

Archie nods lightly beneath him, face tightening up in pain when Veronica tries to clean out the wound with antiseptic.

Nearly everyone drops to the floor when a cop car rushes by the house, sirens blaring louder than ever. Fred stays in his crouched position, his hand shifting to Archie’s shoulder. The squad car circles the neighborhood once, twice- then finally gives up, driving away.

“Who else knows about this?” he asks, tone quiet.

“Inner circle only,” Veronica replies, “Josie drove the getaway car back to The Pembrooke, I didn’t want to draw all the attention back here.”

Fred nods, but doesn’t get a chance to breathe out in relief before someone is banging on the front door at full force.

Reggie and Veronica give him a deer in headlights look, but none of them move, they hardly breathe. Archie groans quietly on the couch, shifting uncomfortably; he’s breathing heavy like he just ran a marathon. Fred moves to comfort him when the banging starts again, a voice following it this time.

_“Mr. Andrews… Mr. Andrews, it’s Betty! We came to help!”_

His shoulders practically deflate at the sound; more help is exactly what he needs right now. Fred motions for Reggie to get the door. Not even two seconds later Betty and Kevin Keller come rushing into the house, dressed up in leather jackets.

“Oh my god,” she says, “What do you- how can we-.”

“Water, we need to get this mess off him, bring whatever you can.”

Archie groans in pain when Veronica pierces his skin with the needle, trying and failing to move away from the sensation. Fred can hear Veronica whispering under her breath, trying to comfort him.

“I’m sorry, just hold on, I- I'm _so sorry, Archie_.”

Fred looks away from her; the distraught look on her face feels all too familiar in this moment. No more does Veronica finish stitching him up than does Betty come back with two large bowls of water and more dish rags than Fred was aware that he owned. He hears the way that Archie sucks in a painful breath once they finally sit him up to start cleaning him off and Fred feels his heart ache for his son.

_Who the hell would do this to him? What did my kid ever do to deserve this?_

He takes a step back, watching the way that Archie’s friends are gentle with him as they wipe all the grime off of his body, tender in a way that Fred hasn’t felt in years. Archie looks up at him blearily more than once- seeking him out, and all he can do is nod at him, assuring him that he’s still here. 

“Mr. Andrews, what now?” Reggie asks, holding a now dirty rag.

He bites his lip, trying to think of what is best to do next. Absently, Fred’s eyes fall to the hall closet door, and he gets an idea.

“We need to get him upstairs, he’ll sleep better in his own bed. C’mon. Reggie, Kevin- give me a hand here.”

Reggie and Kevin settle on either side of Archie, pulling his arms over their shoulders before lifting him off the couch; the guttural _cry_ that Archie lets out once he’s on his feet again is going to haunt Fred for the rest of his life.

The boys take to the stairs, Archie all but dragging his feet between them, and Fred makes a move for the hall closet, digging out the baseball bat from the back corner. He pulls an old wooden crate out as well; it’ll do just fine as a makeshift chair.

“Wait- Betty, Veronica,” he says, catching them on their way upstairs. “Thank you, for getting him home.”

The girls nod at him. Betty says, “It’s no problem, Mr. Andrews. Are you coming upstairs?”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head, “I’m gonna hang out down here, watch the door. You guys go ahead.” 

Neither Betty nor Veronica question it, just nod at him again before scaling the staircase. Fred plants the box in the middle of the foyer, leaning back against the doorframe to the kitchen. The bat is tight in his grip, ready at a moments notice; if someone’s going to come and take Archie away from him- try and hurt him again- Fred’s going to be ready. _No matter what._

Not even ten minutes later, he hears the sound of someone pounding his front steps; Jughead bursts through the front door, looking around wide-eyed and frantic. His eyes fall to Fred.

“Wh- what happened? Where is he?” He asks.  

“Upstairs, the others are with him,” Fred says, barely taking his eyes off the door for more than a second; Jughead flies upstairs before he’s even finished the sentence.

Fred sends a silent thank you to whoever is listening out in the world, grateful that his kid has a group of friends that would go to the ends of the earth just to protect him.

///

Later, after Kevin and the girls have left, Reggie and Jughead insist on taking Fred’s place to guard the doors, to give him a chance to sit with Archie. After seeing the determined look on their faces, Fred is in no place to say no- no matter how much he wants to stay.

Reggie stands vigil at the back door, wielding Fred’s bat while Jughead takes the front door, grip tight on a crowbar he found in the garage.

_I can only imagine the amount of stress these kids must be under,_ Fred thinks, absently, _putting yourself in harms way for the sake of someone else is no easy thing. They must be exhausted. Their lives shouldn’t be like this- not so soon, anyway._

“I hope you don’t mind, Mr. A,” Jughead says, “But I called my dad and asked him to send over a few Serpents. I thought they could patrol the streets or something, just to keep an eye out for trouble.”

Fred nods and then squeezes his upper arm. “Thank you, Jughead. Are you sure you’ll be okay down here?”

“Yeah, Reggie and I will be fine. Go, Betty said that he was asking for you.”  

Well, there’s certainly nothing stopping him now.

Fred feels anxious on the walk upstairs, finds himself gripping the handrail harder than necessary. It’s just his son, it’s just Archie- the same Archie that’s been gone for weeks only to show up battered and bleeding out of nowhere-

Fred pushes the negative thoughts out of his head. Nothing else matters now; Archie’s home, that’s all he cares about, it’s the only thing that matters. He finds himself thinking back on a conversation the two of them had, right before he got shot- before this whole town started to go downhill without a warning.

_This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen,_ he’d said, _if you stay on this path you’ll end up dead. You gotta believe me okay? When I tell you I’m trying to protect you, that is my job. It’s the only one that counts._

It feels all too real now, the implication that something bad could happen to Archie. Except, it seems, something already did.

Archie is sleeping when Fred goes in, lying on his uninjured side with one hand hanging off the bed. He looks far more peaceful now, doesn’t look as much like he’s about to keel over. All the dirt and blood has been wiped from his body and his shirt has disappeared, but Fred can still see a layer of sweat building on his forehead. Fred makes a mental note to watch out for a fever.

He takes a seat in Archie’s desk chair, pulling it as close to the bed as he can, then grabs one of the forgotten rags that’s been left on the bedpost. Gently, he wipes the moisture from Archie’s face; Archie’s eyelids flutter as the rag sweeps across his forehead, and Fred finds himself holding his breath in anticipation.

Archie’s eyes open fully, glazed over and confused, but they settle right on Fred. He starts reaching for him almost immediately.

“Hmn- _Dad_.” He groans; Fred reaches back without question, curling his hand around Archie’s wrist, making smooth circles with his thumb.

“It’s alright, Arch,” he says, soft and soothing. “You’re home now, you’re safe… everything is going to be fine. I _promise_.”  

**Author's Note:**

> I realize now that the only thing Archie said this entire fic was "Dad" and honestly? A Mood. 
> 
> Thanks for reading my fic! Comments/Kudos/Prompts are encouraged and appreciated. You can find me on tumblr as archieandrewsprotectionsquad. Thanks again for reading my fic, have a great day!


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